


Fugitive

by deviouseditor



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviouseditor/pseuds/deviouseditor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helga's had it with Hillwood and everyone in it, so she leaves. This story follows the adventure of Helga and the the people she meets, her will to change and the life she discovers, attempting to leave Hillwood behind. But will Hillwood let her leave for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She Flees

Helga Pataki sat in a diner in the vicinity of Spokane, WA. Her eyes were directed out the window beside her, not focusing on anything in particular since her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts were still in Hillwood. Having arrived in Spokane six day's prior by bus, with nothing but the clothes on her back and duffle bag of essentials. she looked like a vagabond, and stifled a snort remembering that she  _was_  a vagabond.

Looking up absently at the waitress, she was presented with a menu, and ordered the cheapest thing on it. In an effort to still her running thoughts, she rested her forehead on the table, where it stayed until her meal arrived. In front of her was bagel with cream cheese that tasted a little past it's expiration date. The bagel was devoured in a matter of seconds, and Helga had never felt more satisfied.

Her glass of water was rapidly drained, immediately after. Grabbing her bag, she searched for cash. Counting each dollar bill she had, and going over how much would be needed to get at least half way across the country.  _Shit._ Panicking, she found that paying for her food was not feasible.

It felt like an hour had passed in the ten minutes she spent staring at the bill, working up the courage to run. Any minute now, Helga would be out the door and on her way to anywhere. ' _Ok, Helga… now'._

A five-dollar bill was placed on the table, just as she had made a grab for her bag. Looking for the source of the donation she discovered a woman, smiling down at her. The woman had blonde hair and eyeliner covered eyes.

"Next time don't think, just move" the stranger said bluntly.

"What?" Helga let slip a bewildered look, which melted into a scowl as the woman sat in the chair opposite her.

"I can tell you've never done it before," the woman noted "so next time you're in a diner, much like this one; full of fat or old employees, all you have to do is move. They'll never catch you"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about lady"

"Yes you do. You were going to dine and dash, I know the look; I've seen quite a few runaways get caught running out on an unpaid bill."

"How did you –"

"Have you seen yourself? Your appearance screams runaway, you look like you haven't slept in days, and you've been staring at the bill since it had arrived."

' _Damn'._  Helga's eyes darted towards the window then back and muttered "Thanks".

"Don't worry about it. Been there done that, not to mention the time for  _that_."

Silence welled up between them.

"So," the stranger began "you need some money for a train or something? I'd hate to leave a fellow vagrant stranded in a shit hole like this."

"No I have money," Helga replied defiantly, "I just need it for the next bus out of here"

"Where are you headed?"

"Uh…" She hadn't thought of that.  _Anywhere, as far as possible I guess…_

"I see," the woman smiled "do you need a ride there?"

Helga gave the woman a once over. The woman's hair was bleached from the dark roots that were peaking out from beneath the white-blonde hair. Her face was narrow and angular, much like a model's. Her lips were a shocking shade of red and her eyes were cat-eyed with thick black eyeliner. She was wearing a white t-shirt under a black leather jacket, faded narrow jeans, which were frayed to bits at the end and cuffed upwards. Around her waist was a plaid button up and on her feet were a pair of combat boots, probably steel-toed. The women embodied the essence of grunge; she looked like she belonged the moshpit of a nirvana concert.

"What would it cost me?" Helga wasn't sure whether she wanted to find out how reliable this chick was.

"I'd like it if you could take a driving shift every once in a while"

"I can't drive"

"We can fix that"

Helga shot her a blank then quizzical look and she responded with a devious smile.

"My name is Priscilla, but I prefer Priss, and  _no_  I'm not prissy, (Like I haven't heard that before,) not that anyone calls me that because I've been on the road for the last two years and I never stay anywhere longer than a week."

"I'm Helga"

"Nordic, I like it. Obviously your birth was sacred"

"What?" Helga narrowed her eyes warily.

"Your name, its old Norse for 'holy' or 'blessed'. You my dear are a blessing"

_That's ironic._

"No, I'm about as far away from a blessing as can be"

"Is that why you're on the run?"

"Who say's I'm on the run?"

"Ever since you sat down, you've made it a point to hide your face behind your hair, which you're doing a good job of. You don't want to be seen, or recognized. It looks like you're running from something… or someone" she ended slyly.

_Great._

"Well Helga," Priss continued, "you're welcome to join me. I can give you a few pointers about being incognito, and I can fill you in on what to avoid when on the run. Shall we?"

Helga Hesitated.

"Ok".

* * *

**Four days Prior**

Phoebe was for lack of a better word, worried. She was more than worried. All weekend long she'd tried to reach Helga on her cell phone, home phone, email, and any other type or form of communication. She'd even gone over to Helga's house multiple times a day, where she was met with either: no answer or Big Bob mumbling something about her being out.

By now Phoebe was frantic. As soon as she arrived at school she raced to Helga's locker hoping that she would catch her best friend before her morning class. She turned the corner expecting to see a flash of blonde hair bobbing up and down searching for necessary items for the day, but she was met with an unopened locker and no sign of Helga. Phoebe swiftly turned the knob in the sequence that would open the lock and free the locker door. She pulled the door open, and her panic heightened: everything was still there. Phoebe knew for sure that Helga had Bio first period, and the bell was due to ring in a minute or so, but Helga's text book lay at the end of the row of textbooks along with the other somber school related objects that inhabited Helga's locker.

Ok, so she was late. Phoebe jumped at the sound of the bell. She moved hastily, hoping to hell and back that Helga would show up for second period.

She didn't. Helga was nowhere to be found, not at lunch or her third class or her fourth. Phoebe's fright was at maximum capacity as she waited anxiously for the last bell. As soon as it rang she raced down the hall, only to be stopped by her boyfriend.

"Pheebs, babe what's the hurry?" questioned Gerald.

Arnold appeared in the shadow of the couple, and observed with interest.

"It's nothing. No. No it's not nothing, I need you to drive me somewhere, fast!"

"Sure, but where? And why fast?"

"No time to explain, it's. It's. Helga, I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and I need to make sur–"

"Look, I'm sure you feel guilty about what went down on Friday, but you shouldn't give in so easily. Wait till she apologizes first."

"She already did!"

"To you, but not to us" Arnold commented, after a long pause.

"That's not what I'm getting at!" Phoebe yelled in frustration, "I've been trying to get a hold of her since Friday, but she hasn't answered her phone, or her door, and she wasn't at school today."

"Coward" Gerald mumbled

"Something is wrong! Phoebe emphasized, "She was acting incredibly odd when we last spoke, and she was absent all day!"

"Phoebe, calm down" Arnold reasoned, "She probably avoided contact because she wanted time alone, which is perfectly understandable. She'll be back tomorrow with her usual scowl and curve of anger to her brow". He smiled reassuringly.

Phoebe turned to Gerald. "Gerald please, I must make she that Helga is safe."

Gerald sighed and led Phoebe to his car. He unlocked the door so Phoebe could get in. Arnold caught up with them and jumped into the back seat.

"I thought you were still angry at her," Gerald said to him

"You're my ride" Arnold said simply, not making eye contact.

The car departed in the direction of the Pataki household. Phoebe bounded towards the door. This time it was Miriam who answered.

"Hello? Oh! Phoebe." Miriam slurred

"Hello Mrs. Pataki, is Helga in?" Phoebe asked politely

"I'm not sure, HELGA?" Miriam yelled in the direction of the stairs. Silence answered.

"Do you mind if I go in and check if she's there?"

"Go ahead, dear" Miriam stumbled away, smoothie in hand.

Phoebe sprinted up the stairs, Gerald and Arnold following after. She knocked on the door. After a moment of silence, she pushed it open to reveal a very unkempt room. Clothes had been pulled out of drawers and thrown in all directions; books were stacked and tossed in odd places while the bookshelf was bare. The Bed had been stripped of sheets and a chair lay broken in a corner.

The trio stared at the room in apprehension. Helga was nowhere within the disarray.

Phoebe slowly walked over to the closet, and slowly opened the door a crack so that Arnold would not see the shrine dedicated to him that lived in the small space, but she found it bare. She pushed the door a bit farther and saw bags lying on the floor of the closet, they looked victim of a desperate search for something. After a moment Phoebe realized what Helga had been searching for.

Helga's duffle bag was missing as well as her laptop, which was removed from its hiding place within the closet. She turned around and examined the thrown objects. A few of Helga's favorite clothing were missing, as well her tattered combat boots. Phoebe turned to the books that were scattered and found a peculiar one that stood out. It was spread face down open to the first page. She picked it up and found it to be hollow. Whatever had been inside was gone. She turned and noticed that the picture of her and Helga, which was normally stuck above Helga's bed, was gone.

"Pheebs, you should come look at this" Gerald spoke, breaking the silence.

She approached him, curious as to what he'd found. Gerald stood over a full wastebasket. Upon looking inside Phoebe discovered the all of Helga's poetry-filled notebooks. At the bottom of the basket was a ball of paper that consisted of several pieces. She picked up the ball and took it apart. Smoothing out the paper, she found writing.

**To whoever finds this:**

**I've found that I have no desire to stay in Hillwood, I'm sick of everyone in this stupid town. So I'm gone. I'm done. I hate you all. I have to escape one was or another. If I can't leave, I can die.**

This message was scribbled out carelessly. She picked up another.

**FUCK THIS TOWN.**

**FUCK MY STUPID FAMILY. FUCK MY FRIENDS. FUCK MY SCHOOL. FUCK MY LIFE.**

**IT'S ALL GOTTA END SOMETIME, WHY NOT NOW?**

The writing was clumsy, and once again, crossed out this time diagonally. Phoebe slowly picked up the last piece.

**If you can't tell by the mess I've left, or my previous attempts to write a "goodbye" note, I've split. Gone. Left. I can't continue to endure this suffocating town. So I'm leaving. I'm not sure where I'll go, but really anywhere is better than this frenzied hell. As for the suicidal references in the first attempts, I have yet to come to a decision on that. Maybe somewhere along the way, I'll bleed out in a random rest stop on the highway. Or die of hunger due to lack of money. Maybe I'll be picked up by a trucker or something and end up raped then strangled to death. Wow I really hope the last one doesn't happen.**

**The only thing I know for sure is that my end is near. I'm being very melodramatic, I know, but I have a desire to chase it. I'm going to rush to the end of my tunnel, and envelope myself in the white light people talk so much about. I'm going to finish off "Helga".**

**To conclude what is obviously the subject of this note is: I'm running away.**

**Phoebe if you find this, and I really, truly hope you don't, I want you to know that I've never loved anyone in my life more than I love you (aside from ice cream). This is really selfish of me, I know, but I can't do this anymore. I hope that one day when you and Geraldo are married and have little Japanese-Black-White kids, that you remember the good times we had rather than the shit that transpired.**

**I really hate this place. I really hate just about everyone in this place. In fact, I don't even think this note is necessary. Everyone's better off speculating what happened rather than try to find me (ha-ha.).**

**Fuck it. This is dumb.**

"This is really bad" Arnold broke the silence.

"I need a car," Phoebe said. Her voice was quiet and devoid of emotion. She turned to the two boys. The young woman had gone pale and her eyes were brimmed with tears. This only added to the boys' worry.

"You don't know where she could've gone and assuming she left Saturday morning, she could be  _anywhere_ by now." Arnold reasoned.

"Also, there is no way you could go searching for her by yourself. You read the note, there's no way I'd let you leave with a chance of getting raped!" Gerald said with a note of exasperation.

"Too bad! There is no way I'm letting her get away like this. We've spent too much time together; which makes this goodbye completely unacceptable! If shit happens, so be it! I'm going to find her, then kick the crap out of her and drag her HOME"

Arnold and Gerald stared at her, shocked. She had sworn. It was surreal. Phoebe let a shriek of frustration and marched towards the door, stacking the poetry books and goodbye notes which she carried with her on her way out. The two boys were left flabbergasted in her wake.


	2. She Revamps

Helga awoke to the sight of moving trees. They had left Spokane and were headed east. 'Next stop: anywhere' Priss had joked. The two were travelling in Priss's 1977 Oldsmobile 98 coupe, a beauty that complimented it's owner. Minutes after the two had set off, Helga had immediately fallen asleep, only to be awoken by a jolt triggered by a pothole.

"Hello there, sleeping beauty" Helga turned to Priss.

"Where are we?"

"No idea. Well, that's a lie. I know we're in Montana. I think we're approaching Flathead, but I could be wrong."

"Wonderful" Helga said with a groan, her voice laced with sarcasm. She settled into the seat and observed the moving scenery. Her groggy mood settled into her stomache and melted into emptiness. There was a lot of nothing to look at. A flash startled her and she glared in the direction that it came from. Priss put down a Polaroid camera and stuck the picture on the dashboard, so they could watch it develop.

"Wanna chat?" Priss asked, and looked over at her, grinning.

"Not particularly" Helga said with a yawn, expressing her boredom.

"Well, I'm going to assume that you're gonna be stuck with me for a long time, considering that you don't have a destination. And I can tell by that stupid look on your face – yes that one – that you're intention was to get as far away from your demons as possible"

"What makes you think I have demons?"

"Helga, everyone has demons," Priss said sweetly. She was trying to get Helga comfortable with the idea of talking to her.

Helga said nothing looking straight ahead of them watching the road continuously disappear underneath them. The nap had left her feeling empty. Perhaps it was the dream she couldn't remember, although she knew well enough what it was about, or maybe it was the distance she could feel growing between her and her 'home'.

She glanced at Priss, She had been watching Helga wander through her thoughts. Helga noted how Priss could keep her eyes off the road for a long period of time.

"Yes" Helga said after hesitating. "I'm running from my 'demons'".

"And what makes you think your  _demons_  wont follow you?" Priss said with a sarcastic emphasis on the word 'demons'.

"Because my demons are real!" Helga snapped back.

Priss looked perplexed.

"I ran away because my home life is unsatisfactory"

"Did you just quote 'the Breakfast Club'"?

Helga glared at her.

"Care to explain why?" Priss questioned

Silence.

"I won't judge you," Priss spoke comfortingly, " If it makes it easier, for each tidbit you tell me about yourself, I'll return with a little of my own past. Sound good?"

"What makes you think I  _care_  about your past". Helga sneered.

Priss turned to her and put on the most disapproving look Helga had ever seen. She felt  _shame_. Helga recoiled meekly.

"There is a frustrated child trapped in that adult body of yours, and unless you open up and trust someone, that child will never grow up."

"I  _have_  opened up to people!" Helga shot back.

"So the reason you're on the run is because you're done with opening up? Or perhaps, they're done trying to  _get_  you to open up. Is that it? they've grown tired of you?"

Helga's eyes widened.

"It seems I've struck a nerve" Priss stated bluntly, "Well I can guarantee right now, that you will find people who will  _never_  grow tired of you. In fact you've already found me! And unless you open up and give me a reason to care, I may as well leave at the next rest stop."

"What the fuck is your problem?" Helga exploded "Why would you care about whether I open up or not. I'm a fucking hitchhiker! You shouldn't care!"

"I do care"

"I fail to see why"

"Because you remind me of someone"

"Really?" Helga asked incredulously, "Don't tell me I remind you of yourself, that'd just about make my day".

"No. You remind me of my sister." Priss replied softly

"Your sister." Helga repeated, "and where the fuck is she?"

"She's dead."

_'Shit'_.

"She was a runaway," Priss continued, "she died on her way to get me."

"Get you?" Helga asked quietly.

"Yeah, my sister, Diana, and I were orphaned, put in separate foster homes. An old man kindly took me in. I was seven at the time and unable to cope with the death of my parents alone. I really needed Diana, but she was placed in a group home, in a different part of the state."

Priss paused for bit, as if collecting her thoughts. Helga felt the emptiness inside her, merge with a sort of kinship she felt for Priss.

"The group home," Priss began again, "had an assortment of teens living there, victims of abuse, other orphans, and some with serious temper issues. It was a difficult environment for her to adjust to.

"She'd call me every day, and we would talk for as long as the supervisors would let her. She should've been placed with the old man and I, but something happened with the paperwork, I can't remember what, and we were separated. We visited each other whenever we could. The time we spent together was so precious, but always ended too soon and we were separated again.

"The people who had arranged our homes were working on clearing up the issue. But Diana had been suffering from severe depression, and before they could fix it, she had left. I hadn't known at the time, it had started a while before our parents died. However, their death amplified her despair.

"She tolerated our separation for as long as she could, but at one point she snapped. She had a bit of short temper like yourself," she smiled sadly, " keeping people as far away from her as possible. Her supervisors noted that she was uncooperative which gave them reason to keep her there. I could tell she stopped letting anyone in because of her fear of separation, like our parents and me. The night that she ran away, she called me. She said she was coming to find me, and when she would, we would never part again.

"I didn't hear from her for two weeks. I remember the night the old man told me that Diana had been lost. He didn't say she had 'died', but I understood what he meant. He'd said the same thing once when I had found a dead bird in his yard. He said 'the poor soul was lost'.

"Years later I found out the details of my sister's death. She had made it three fourths of the way to the old man's house. But one night she had a nightmare that stayed with her while she woke. She was hallucinating from dehydration. There were witnesses saying that she had gotten to the nearest gas station where she locked herself in the restroom, believing she could escape the monsters she saw. Nothing made them go away. So she did the only thing she could think of to rid her suffering.

"The gas station employees had managed to pry the door open, and immediately rush her to a hospital. She died on arrival."

Priss finished. The two girls sat in silence as they drifted across the highway. Helga sat in the passengers seat absorbing everything Priss had said. She kept going over each detail committing it to memory. Her loss was greater than Arnold's. She had suffered loss twice at a young age. Arnold had hope, loving relatives to take care of him, but Priss had three graves in place of what was once her family.

Helga knew not to say, "I'm so sorry". She'd known not to for a long time. She simply listened, much like she did with Arnold when he needed someone to talk to.

"I just about don't exist to my parents," Helga said breaking the silence, "they waited twelve years before they had another child. I'd just about bet everything that I was mistake. My mother is an alcoholic, she spends most of the day passed out, and my father is a self-centred workaholic, focused strictly on his beeper empire and my older sister. My parents had fought constantly when my sister was a child. She found that the only way to get positive attention from them was to be a perfect child. So she strived to be perfect, and that's how she managed to win their attention. I hated her for that. I didn't figure out until later that her being perfect was similar to me being abrasive. We did it to protect ourselves, and along the way it became who we were.

"Growing up I didn't get any affection. In fact, I was three the first time somebody was kind to me.  _He_ was kind to me…" Helga paused getting off track, "I took the role of the bully, tormenting people mercilessly. I had started to protect myself, but it became second nature to me, almost like an addiction, without it I felt incomplete and vulnerable. At one point in the fourth grade I was forced to see a therapist by the school board, she explained to me that it was a defence mechanism. It was simple, hurt them before they hurt me. Made sense.

"I  _did_  have people who cared about me, well three to be exact: my best friend, the school therapist, and a classmate of mine. Being who I was, I pushed the classmate away. In fact I bullied him especially. And I hated myself for it. I treated my best friend better than anyone else I knew, but that didn't mean I let myself be vulnerable in front of her. I loved her, still love her, but I could have treated her better as well. My therapist was the only one who got close to my final defence.

"As I entered my years of adolecence, I had managed to change as much as I could. I still kept people out, but I tried not to be hostile or malicious. Since I'd improved so much, the school board ended my sessions with . It went well for a few years, sure I was still hassling my classmates and poking fun at just about everyone I knew, but it was better than before. I was tolerated. Then I went and fucked it up a week ago.

"I pulled a prank on that very same classmate who cared for me, and to put it lightly, I thoroughly humiliated him. Needless to say he was not happy, his best friend was angry, and my best friend who's dating his best friend was disappointed in me. The three of them didn't say a thing, I had expected some sort of magnificent screaming match, but I got silence. I felt them cut me out of their lives. It was fair; I'd been a bitch, not only then but over the years as well. There was more too it than that, but when I saw how they looked at me, I knew it didn't matter. All their tolerence was at maximum capacity and I managed to add a little too much pressure.

"I was faced with the fact that there was nothing left for me there. Absolutely nothing. So I packed my duffle bag, and left. Well, not before attempting to apologize first. I managed to work up enough courage speak to my best friend. I couldn't live with myself if I'd taken off after the way we'd previously parted. I had to leave on some sort of positive note, regardless if she had forgiven me.

"Once I'd visited her, I hurried home, grabbed my bag, and left. Then six days later, I met you."

Helga turned to Priss who had been listening intently.

"Well, that's about it. What now?" Helga asked.

"Now I help you run away." Priss replied, looking back at the road not before picking up the polaroid and handing it to Helga. She held the picture of herself. In it she was leaning against the passenger side window, with a dour disposition. She looked back up at Priss who smiled brilliantly at her, before pointing a head of them.

She was motioning to an approaching a sign that read " _Welcome to Flathead_ "

* * *

A few wrong turns later, the two had indeed arrived in Kalispell, Montana. They found themselves a rundown but, cheap motel, where they got a room. Given that it was a nice afternoon, Priss proposed that they drive around and explore. Helga didn't really care to, but Priss dragged her along anyway.

After exploring what seemed to be downtown, they had discovered a depressing shopping centre, the largest bulk barn either of them had ever seen as well as a group of leather clad old men on harlies. Priss enjoyed all the sights as Helga remained impassive.

Priss abruptly stopped the car, and Helga was thrown forward as far has her seatbelt would let her.

"What the fuck?" Helga swore in frustration.

"I've found a solution to your appearance problem" Priss said sweetly, her eyes fixed on the store behind Helga.

"There's nothing wrong with my appearance!" Helga turned "Oh…"

She was looking at a second hand store that had a variety of different fashion styles in the window. Ranging from early 1940s dresses to the grungy clothing that Priss wore, to intense punk fashion. It was the kind of place that had a hippie behind the counter and the Clash playing in the background. This was definitely clothing Helga would never have worn. Which made it perfect.

Priss immediately started rummaging through the aisles, pilling article after article of clothing into Helga's arms. Once she'd sifted through the entire store, she confinned Helga to a cramped changeroom. After what felt like hours of Priss having Helga change into hundreds of pieces of clothing, the two left quite contently. Or at least Priss did, Helga was still angry at the smelly vintage dresses she had been forced to model.

The result was excellent, and for a thrifty price. Helga had acquired an assortment of clothing; a flannel shirt, a pair of faded acid wash and black denim jeans, a denim jacket and a  _leather_  jacket, as well as three long skirts. Helga threw in two locally screen-printed t-shirts and a baggy knit long sleeved shirt for added fun. It was basically clothing that Priss would've worn, which inflated her ego. She gloated as they drove off to find the nearest burger joint.

They managed to find a fun looking restaurant with reasonable prices. It was a nice little diner that looked as if it had been built directly out of the 1950s. As soon as the two had sat down and ordered, Priss decided to take leave.

"I'm just gonna pop out for a bit" She said with a smile.

"What for?" Helga uncomfortable with the sly smile Priss was sporting.

"I want to go buy cigarettes, and I saw a drugstore a block down the street, I won't be too long. Try not to miss me" she winked and skipped out the door.

"That won't be hard" Helga muttered to herself.

Not wanting to be left alone with her thoughts, Helga pulled out her small laptop and searched for wifi. She kept it with her at all time for safety. She was delighted to find that the little restaurant had a wifi signal that she was free to use. Helga hummed along to a Frank Sinatra tune as she emptied her glass of water, waiting for the computer to connect with the wifi.

Helga then reconsidered her actions. She knew she would be tempted to check her online social profile. She didn't want to see any comments pleading her to come home, or comments telling her not to bother coming back, or worse, no comments at all.

It was dangerous, she decided to be precautious and keep stress as far away as was about to shut down her laptop when it beeped, indicating that she'd received an email. The pop up said it was from Phoebe.

Helga froze. ' _Shit, what do I do? I should delete it. I should keep her far away from me as possible, and that includes email. If I read this, everything could be ruined. But I really want to'._  She was torn between her desire to escape and her desire to hang on to a little piece of home. ' _GODDAMNIT PHOEBE!'_  She clicked the popup.

In front of her was a virtual letter from her dear friend. Helga was hesitant at first, but reluctantly read it.

**Helga,**

**I know that my effort to contact you is in vain, but I hope that you get this at one point or another. I had to tell you, I found your books and 'goodbye' letters.**

Helga's stomach dropped.

**You were right, it was _incredibly_  selfish to leave the way you did. I know that you felt the need to escape, and justifiably so, but the mention of suicide truly frightened me to death.**

**Please, for the sake of all the years we've spent together, please send me some sort of sign that you're safe. If I don't hear from you, I will assume that you have died. And if you do respond, I beg of you, send me anything occasionally, so I know that you continue to be safe.**

**On a side note, there has been quite a mess of gossip surrounding your disappearance. Olga has been calling me daily from Alaska, hoping that I had found a way to reach you. I know how you feel about your sister, but you should think about how frantic she is and perhaps continue to reconsider your judgment of her.**

**If you think that's surprising, that's not the end of it. Gerald has been feeling horrible about the last conversation you shared. Even Arnold is worried about you.**

**He was there when I found the letter, yes he did read it, and no, he didn't get the reference. He may have an inkling of how you feel, but he still is not aware of the extent. And I find that heartbreaking.**

**So, if I don't hear from you, and conclude that you _are_  dead, I will not feel guilty about telling him just  _how much_  you did for him. If you  _are_  dead he deserves to know that someone who loved him, and did everything she could for him, for over fourteen years committed suicide.**

**I love you. Please send me something. Anything.**

**Phoebe.**

_Shit shit shit shit shit. How do I respond to this?_

"What's the matter?" Priss asked as she sat down in the opposite seat. Helga could smell nicotine on her breath, and her suspicions subsided.

"I've been given an ultimatum. Both options fuck me over greatly." Helga cringed. She let out a cry of frustration and dropped her head to the table covering it with both arms.

"What are the options?"

"Either I email the person to assure them I'm still alive, or they tell someone something that I NEVER want revealed."

"Shit. Well, why don't you just send the damn email?"

"This girl is very tech savvy, I bet that she could pinpoint my location from where ever I send the email. She could monitor my every move! Or worse, track me down and drag me back."

"I see... I think I can help."

* * *

The girls returned to their crummy motel room after eating as much as they could at the diner. Helga entered the room and immediately sensed impending doom.

"What the hell is that?" Helga pointed at the box of hair dye Priss had pulled out of her bag. It was a spur of the moment idea Priss had after they left the second-hand store.

"It's a new identity, hand picked by the queen of runaways" she replied coyly

"No. No no no no. I don't want to, and besides! Why the hell should I? Isn't the new wardrobe enough?"

"Fool, if you want to stay hidden then EVERYTHING has to change. You have to become completely unrecognizable. Otherwise you'll be tracked in about… 2 months tops."  
Helga paused, taking in Priss's reasoning.

"Criminey" Helga slouched in defeat.

Approximately an hour and a half later, Helga was staring at herself in the motel bathroom mirror. But the girl that blinked back at her was a stranger, with similar facial features and demeanor.

She had changed into her new clothing, sporting a long skirt with a slouchy shirt underneath her denim jacket. The skirt stopped above her ankles, showing off her combat boots.

' _I look like I could be Priss's best friend. Or cousin or something. This is too weird'._

Much to Helga's dismay, Priss took full control of her make over. Helga's once blonde hair had been dyed a deep shade of dark brown. She wore dark red of lipstick on her pouty mouth, much darker than Priss' shade, which made her look a bit paler than her normal skin tone. Priss had let her get away with as little make up as possible, insisting that she at least wear mascara. But the final blow was her attack on Helga's unibrow. She tried to convince Helga to shave her brows off completely, saying that it would be an awesome look, Helga countered bringing up that with no eyebrows she would stand out, and be somewhat recognizable if she was tracked down. Instead, she flaunted two naturally shaped eyebrows, not bushy yet not at all thin.

It was bizarre to say the least.

Helga made to leave the bathroom, but was stopped in the doorway. Priss grinned at her, and from behind her back, pulled out a pair of scissors.

"What the fuck Priss?" Helga said in alarm

"Now I know that your hair is long and beautiful, but a different hair style will complete the change! Don't worry, you'll still be able to hide your face when I'm done with you."

Twenty minutes and sink full of hair later, Priss was admiring her work and Helga was scared to see her reflection.

"I don't know how I feel about this" Helga said with a note of uncertainty as she turned, bracing herself.

"How you feel is irrelevant. The issue is recognition, and face it girl, you look nothing like yourself."

Helga could only agree, continuing to stare at herself in the mirror. Her long hair had been shortened from what once reached the lowest part of her back, to around her mid back. Her out grown bangs were cut bluntly stopping half an inch past her eyes.

She heard Priss leave and return. A flash blinded her, to which she jumped and glared at the source of light. Priss let out a shriek of laughter, and handed her the Polaroid picture she had taken of Helga.

"Documentation" Priss said simply, "this my friend, is an  _event_ , there for documentation is necessary"

Helga kept her eyes on Priss, soaking in her words. She was fighting an internal battle to decide how much she would reveal to her companion. What kind of relationship should she allow herself to have with this woman? In last eight hours that they had spent together, Helga had noticed many eccentric tendencies Priss had. The constant photographing made her both annoyed and curious.

"What's with the cameras?"

Priss paused, and she looked at the floor not quite focusing on it.

"The old man was a photographer. His big empty house served as his personal photo archives. I was given my first camera when I was seven and received my first SLR when I was thirteen. I currently own over 50 cameras." Upon finishing Priss looked up and into Helga's eyes.

"Criminey. Where are they?" Helga asked bewildered.

"They're still in the great big empty house. Waiting for me. I brought four of them with me for the sake of nostalgia."

"Then why are you on the road?" Helga asked curiously

" _That_  will be saved for another anecdote trade, this was a freebie" Priss smirked back at her.

"Whatever floats your boat," Helga replied automatically. Then stopped to think of Arnold before pushing him once more to the back of her mind.

"Anywho, we depart tomorrow at the crack of dawn," Priss announced triumphantly, "and we shall journey as far as the roads of Montana take us!"

Helga responded by crashing on her side of the bed, fully clothed. She was asleep within minutes.


	3. His Decision, Her Reveal

  The details surrounding Helga's disappearance were unclear, but within a week rumours had spread faster than wildfire. It was difficult to go about one's business without over hearing someone gossiping about Helga. Unfortunately, given the stunt she had pulled the Friday before she'd vanished, most of that gossip was negative.  
  
  Her parents didn't do much to douse said fire. If anything, their bewilderment made the rumours worse. Helga's disappearance had made local news, and her parents were bombarded with questions. They looked like a couple of deer caught in the headlights, which became proof of how little they were concerned about her. It was Olga that had made an effort to find her 'baby sister'. She'd teamed up with Phoebe in the search for Helga Pataki. Despite their efforts, few were motivated to aid their cause.    
   
  
The journey between classes had become a harrowing task, one that Arnold found he dreaded more and more each day since the discovery of Helga's deserted room. The eyes of his classmates followed him; it was as if they were triumphant for him. As far as the student body was concerned, she was exiled, 'good riddance' was the consensus.  
  
  All this attention supplemented his concern, Arnold wanted her found but he could see that without support it would be difficult. He had not imagined that she'd leave, avoid everyone sure, but run away? Then again, he never quite knew what to expect with Helga. She'd managed to astonish him once again the last time he'd seen her.  
  
  It had been the afternoon of his ignominy, and Arnold had returned home to sulk for a good hour or so. He decided that a walk would aid his recovery and after roaming the neighbourhood, then loitering in a park, he felt less troubled. Making his way home, he meandered through the intricate maze of streets and alleys to the Sunset Arms.  
  
  However, not long after his departure he started to notice something out of the corner of his eye. He kept seeing a flash of yellow and pink whenever he would turn a corner. Obviously someone was following him, and he knew just who it was.  
  
  Arnold had a feeling Helga G. Pataki would find him, but frankly he hadn't expected to find her trailing him home. She probably wanted to ramble on about how she hadn't meant to go so far and refuse to apologize, even though her ranting was an apology in itself. It seemed like Helga was experiencing some kind of indecision; she would speed up to him, and then at one point, fall back. This had become a cycle, and he wanted to see what she would do next.  
  
  He finally reached the stoop of the Sunset Arms. He found his keys and made an effort to slowly unlock the door. In his peripheral vision, he saw her peak around the corner of the block, observing as he entered the building.  
  
  Amused, Arnold pulled the curtains of the window closest to the front door  
so he could peak through. It wasn't long before he saw her approach the building. He watched her as she tentatively climbed the steps to his door. She stood there, occasionally lifting her hand to knock, then losing her nerve and dropping it.  
  
  A good five minutes passed as she glared at the door. He heard her let out a cry of frustration, stalk down the steps and then halt on the sidewalk. Anyone could tell she was fighting an internal battle. Suddenly Helga turned on her heel and climbed the steps once more. With a hint of determination, she made a fist to knock, and froze.  
  
  Helga's look of determination melted into anguish. Her gaze was averted to her shoes, and then she slowly turned and sat down on the top stair. Arnold studied her as she held her head in her hands, taking deep breaths. Gradually her deep breathing became sobbing. Making sure the street was empty, she permitted herself to curl up and cry deeply.  
  
  Arnold was surprised. More than that, he felt the familiar need to comfort her. His gut ached as he watched her finally rise then leave, wiping her eyes as she left.  
  
  It was painfully obvious that she was remorseful. Arnold was astonished; Helga would never let herself be seen sobbing the way she was on his doorstep. He honestly didn't think he would ever see her cry. But now he had, and it was heartbreaking. Arnold silently forgave her, and decided that this would not be spoken of until she was ready to talk.  
  
 It had been a week since that evening, and the situation had deteriorated rapidly.  
  
 Making his way to his next class, Arnold spotted Phoebe approaching him. "Any news?" He asked politely.  
  
  "Nothing so far," Phoebe said, glancing at the traffic of students rushing by them, "I sent her an email,"  _'a horribly reckless email'_  she thought, " it's unlikely she'll reply to it, but I just need a solid reason to take action. If I don't hear from her, my parents won't object so much to letting me search for her."  
  
  "Yeah," Arnold began, "I was thinking about that –"  
  
  "I won't change my mind," Phoebe interrupted.  
  
  "That wasn't where I was going," he defended, "I simply wished to offer my services. For example, I could do half of the driving," He felt silly, hinting at his desire to go with her. "And Maybe Gerald will let up a bit if I'm with you".  
  
  Phoebe fell back, surprised. "Why?" She asked innocently  
  
  "Why?" He hadn't expected that. Arnold nervously continued, "Because I'm worried about her, and before you mention it, I did kind of… forgive her" Arnold averted he gaze at the last part of his sentence.  
  
  "But she never made it to you" Phoebe said more to herself than to him.  
  
  "You know?" Arnold tried to sound vague.  
  
  Phoebe directed her attention once more to Arnold. She paused to assess him, "Yes, She didn't have the willpower to reach out to you nor Gerald".  
  
  "I saw her pacing outside my door," He explained quietly. Helga hadn't meant him to see her, and he chose to respect that.  
  
  "Oh," Phoebe sighed, then looked right into his eyes. "Arnold, do you think you can find me a car? I know it'll be difficult, but I can't afford to rent one. Besides, I don't know how long I'll be gone for, well, we'll be gone for."  
  
  Arnold thought a minute, "I'll see what I can do".  
  
  Phoebe smiled at him before continuing down the hallway. Arnold watched her leave for half a second before resuming his trek. Entering the classroom, he promptly sat down at a desk at the back of the classroom. He slouched over in his seat, pondering how he could manage to get a car.  
  
  His thoughts were interrupted as Gerald plopped down in the seat beside him. "Sup man? When're you moving to your normal seat?" Gerald asked.  
  
  "Hey Gerald," Arnold said, still contemplating his dilemma, "I just want lay low for a while."  
  
  "Whatever you say, Arnold," Gerald hesitated, "you know, you've been acting kind of distant since Monday. You alright man?"  
  
  "I'm fine," Arnold paused, "I've been thinking about Phoebe and her plan to track down Helga".  
  
  "Don't get me started on that. I've no idea how I'm going to convince her to stay put."  
  
  "Actually, I was planning on joining her." Arnold said, thoughtfully.  
  
  "What? Are you serious? Do you remember how much suffering that girl's put you through? I thought for sure this time you'd see what a lost cause she is."  
  
  "I don't believe that. In fact I'd go as far as to say I've got proof that she's not heartless."  
  
  "Really and where is this proof that you speak of?"  
  
  "I saw her crying…" Arnold said trailing off.  
  
  "Crying; I think the only thing that proves, is that Helga G. Pataki is capable of tears."  
  
  "I mean, she was outside my front door for a good fifteen minutes. She looked like she really wanted to knock, but instead she sat down and started sobbing." Arnold stopped to remember her weeping form. "I honestly believe that she was sorry."  
  
  Gerald skeptically gazed at him for half a second. "And that's your reason for interrupting your education? So you can chase down your childhood bully because she regretted her actions?"  
  
  "I didn't expect you to understand," Arnold said casually.  
  
  Gerald looked right into Arnold's eyes and could see he was serious. He decided to drop the subject. "Alright man, I still think it's a bad idea".  
  
  Arnold grinned knowingly at his best friend. They both directed their attention to the front of the classroom, where the teacher had begun taking attendance. However, the class was interrupted as three latecomers stumbled in noisily.  
  
  Rhonda, Nadine and their friend Tiffany stood before their peers, bracing themselves for a scolding. Tiffany was a new student who had recently moved to Hillwood from Rhodes Island. She was petite with chestnut brown hair, with a girl-next-door kind of beauty and a bubbly personality. No one was surprised that she was a sensation within days.  
  
  "I hope you ladies didn't get lost," the teacher said dryly  
  
  "We simply lost track of time." Rhonda said apologetically. The teacher gestured towards the class, telling them to sit down.  
  
  Arnold observed quietly as the girls scurried to their seats. He made eye contact with Tiffany for a split second; he scowled as he felt his stomach drop. Beside him, Gerald was watching, waiting for a reaction. Arnold felt the sting of rejection that Tiffany had injected into his system. Out of everyone, she had laughed the hardest. Helga wasn't responsible for how Tiffany would react to her prank. Nonetheless it had changed the way she treated him.  
  
  Arnold sat through the class, quietly thinking up a plan to get Phoebe and him-self on the road as fast as possible. He did all he could to push his jilted affection out of his head. It didn't help that Tiffany was in his line of view, and that she'd occasionally glance at him.  
  
  When the bell rang, He had come up with a fairly decent idea of what could be arranged within the weekend. Arnold dashed out of the class, dodging students in order to reach Phoebe's locker as well as avoid Tiffany. He turned a corner and collided with another student.  
  
  Arnold got to his feet and offered a hand to the other student. He had hoped for an instance that it was Helga, but he found he had run into Brainy. Once the two had gotten to their feet, Arnold apologized and made to leave. However, Brainy stopped him.  
  
  Arnold gave him a quizzical look as the boy attempted to speak between wheezes. "Need to… talk to you" he said in between wheezes.  
  
  "I'm sorry Brainy I'm in a hurry, could it wait?"  
  
  "… Helga"  
  
  Arnold's eyes widened at her name. He waited patiently as Brainy pulled out his inhaler. After a few breaths, he started to speak.  
  
  "Last Friday, I saw Helga... before she left…" He proceeded to recount the events.  
  


Brainy had been on an errand and had happened to pass the bus terminal on his way home. It wasn't hard to recognize her slouching form and long blond hair spewing out of a black hoodie.

He approached her cautiously as she completed the purchase of a bus ticket, grab her duffel bag and turn walk towards the seating area.

Brainy inched closer to her while her back was turned, much like he had done many times before. She recognized his wheezing, but instead of instinctively punching him, she turned around and looked into his eyes.

"How on earth do you keep finding me?" she asked helplessly.

"… Luck. Where are you… going?

"What's it to you bucko?" She snapped. Helga looked down for a moment before speaking again. "I'm not quite sure yet".

Brainy paused to take another breath from his inhaler

"You should know me well enough not to worry" she said after a moment of silence, "I'm capable of taking care of myself. Just not capable of staying here.

"I trust you not to say anything to anyone. You were always good at keeping my secrets. So please, keep this one as well."

She hesitated before putting her hand on his shoulder, and grinning halfheartedly.

"Thank you." She said awkwardly, "for the past thirteen years."

She turned to pick up her duffel bag and headed in the direction of her bus.

"…You're welcome," Brainy said quietly.

  
Arnold quickly absorbed the information that had been given to him.  
  
"Which way was she headed?" He asked immediately.  
  
"…East, the final… destination was Spokane".  
  
  
  Back in Kalispell, Helga awoke to the sound of Priss's cell phone alarm and immediately threw it to the floor. Priss got up lazily and went to pull back the curtains before gathering her belongings and placing them back in her knapsack.  
  
  "Wake up dip shit, we leave now," She said while she kicked at Helga's sleeping form.  
  
  Helga swore something incomprehensible back before rolling off the bed onto the floor, from which she slowly stood up. Rubbing her eyes, she headed for the bathroom. On arrival she immediately screamed.  
  
  Priss came running to the bathroom, "What's wrong? What happened?"  
  
  Helga sat slumped on the floor and pointed at the mirror. Priss chuckled and held out a hand to Helga. Once she was on her feet, Priss guided her to the shower. She turned on the tap and tried to pull off Helga's clothes.  
  
  "Hey, what the hell," She said angrily.  
  
  "Sorry, but you still smell like a road kill, therefore, departure is delayed until you get clean".  
  
  Helga grumbled as she undressed herself and stepped into the shower running behind a curtained bathtub. Water spilled over her skin washing away her morning fury. The shower left her feeling clean and pure. Helga smiled to herself feeling confident in whatever was in store for her. Sure, her companion was bonkers, but she hadn't done anything to really piss Helga off. Things were looking up.  
  
  With her duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, Helga trudged to the Coupe where Priss was waving animatedly. They both got in the car and drove to the front desk where they dropped off their key. Once they had checked out Priss hit the gas pedal, speeding off in search of breakfast.  
  
  The two of them cruised around lazily, taking the opportunity to adjust to the bright morning sun. Helga had been keeping an eye out for anything appealing until Priss turned a corner and parked in front of a massive beauty supply outlet store. Helga turned to the driver, expecting an explanation.  
  
  "Why are we here?" Helga said with narrow eyes.  
  
  "Wait here," Priss said quickly before jumping out of the car.  
  
  Helga glared at Priss as she pranced into the salon. Was this part of Priss's plan to keep Phoebe at bay? Whatever was planned had better be worth the information Priss would undoubtedly pry out of her.  
  
  Helga shuddered, imagining what would accompany her capture and forced return. She'd would be forced to face the scrutiny of her peers, and worse; Arnold.  
  
  The blood drained from Helga's face. Arnold would never speak to her again. No hell on or off earth would be worse than that. Yet, Phoebe had said he was worried, was he? Would he forgive her? Or would her return remind him of her wrongdoing. 'I wouldn't doubt it. I'm sure I'd be welcomed back with Arnold and Tiffany, hand in hand, radiating rage in my direction'. Arnold and Tiffany… it wasn't so much the act that angered him, but how it humiliated him in her presence. How had she reacted? Helga had fled, regretting her decision the moment Arnold set off the trigger.  
  
She was a Lila-like. Arnold wouldn't be able to resist. They were probably together by now.  
  
  The driver's door of the Coupe opened abruptly, and Priss slid into the seat with a paper bag in her hands. She smiled at Helga, and then her expression dropped at the sight of her uncurling body.  
  
  "How did you manage to look lonelier in less than fifteen minutes?" Priss said turning the key in the ignition.  
  
  "I'm just that talented," Helga responded sarcastically, "Why did we stop here"  
  
  Priss reached into the bag she'd brought. "I bought you a…" she paused to pull out a lock of long blond hair. "Wig,"  
  
  Helga stared at her, unable to come up with a concrete reply. "Why…?" she asked despite knowing full well why.  
  
  "So we can prove you're alive," Priss said bluntly. "Here," she said handing the wig to Helga, "put it on, and change into your old clothes".  
  
  Helga fumed as Priss confirmed that she would be masquerading as herself. "Why the fuck did you do all that shit to my hair and face if you were just going to make me dress up as myself?" Helga burst allowing her rage to overflow. How exactly would this prevent Phoebe from taking action? "Couldn't I just have worn a brown wig, and kept my hair and face intact?"  
  
  "No. This disguise is easy to remove. If someone found you and discovered your blond hair beneath a brown wig, you wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting out of it".  
  
  Helga said nothing, scowling furiously as she began to undress. Tugging on her tattered jeans and pink t-shirt, she pulled her hair into a bun and put on the wig. She finished by zipping up her black sweatshirt, pulling the hood over her head.  
  
  Priss turned into the parking lot of a family restaurant. The two got out of the car and entered, where they were met with a middle-aged hostess with bright yellow hair. Priss smiled goofily at the hair, resisting the urge to laugh. Helga remained expressionless as the women led them to a booth.  
  
  "Now what," Helga said darkly as she opened the menu lazily, skimming the breakfast options.  
  
  "Look at me"  
  
  Helga lifted her head slightly to make eye contact with her companion, and was met with the familiar flash of Priss's Polaroid. "Criminy, warn me when you do that!" She grumbled.  
  
  "Deal with it" Priss teased.  
  
  "'Deal with it'? How about I 'deal with' you before you blind me?" Helga waved Ol' Betsy in the air for good measure.  
  
  "Cool it, this picture right here, is the reason I had you dress up" Priss showed her the developing picture. A waitress interrupted their conversation, and Priss took the opportunity to order some water and plate of pancakes. Helga randomly picked waffles, and some orange juice. Once she had left, Priss focused all her attention on Helga.  
  
  "We're going to scan this and email it," Priss continued, "since it's not a jpeg she won't be able to read much metadata. I'll encrypt false metadata and throw her off. And that, my dear Helga, is how we're going to keep her at bay".  
  
  Helga tried to understand what Priss was saying. 'Metadata', 'Encrypt false metadata'? She was having a hard time making sense of Priss's plan. "Mind explaining it differently?" She asked  
  
  "Basically, I can make it so when she uses her big brain to find where the email came from, the source will be some obscure location. So, you'll be free of her watchful eye".  
  
  The waitress returned with their drinks. The two of them thanked her before silence settled between them.  
  
  "So, given that I am helping you, would you be as kind as to tell me who 'Arnold' is?" Priss asked casually before taking a sip of her water.  
  
  Helga went pale and her eyes widened. "That… is none of your business," she said shakily.  
  
  Priss frowned, "C'mon, I'm putting a generous amount of effort into ensuring that your friend doesn't tell Arnold, what did she write, 'everything'?"  
  
  Helga scowled and averted her gaze. Swallowing, she measured how much she would tell Priss about Arnold. "He was the classmate I was referring to when you got me to talk. I sort of… care for him, and I made sure I he thought otherwise".  
  
  "Wow, how grade school of you" She said, opening up a package of sugar and spreading it on the table.  
  
  "Yeah, well it started in grade school!" Helga snapped, almost knocking over her drink. She immediately regretted her response.  
  
  Priss looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Well then, that must be some crush you're harbouring".  
  
  Helga took a gulp of her juice in response, she feared she might reveal more.  
  
  "Well, from what I can see, this boy means a great deal to you, despite what you say or don't say. You seem very skittish about this topic, so I'll back off. However, I will want to know more about him". Priss smiled warmly at her warning before resuming her play with the sugar.  
  
  Helga fidgeted with her drink. She'd dodged a bullet, but it wasn't over yet; Arnold would be brought up again. It was evident that Priss was determined to bond with her. Helga wondered just how long she could put off the inevitable.


	4. She Panics

The troublesome two had been on the road for a good three days stopping occasionally to snooze and eat. Helga took initiative and bought a map, only to find that they had been traveling in a zig-zag pattern and hadn't gotten very far. The older woman simply laughed it off while the former blond seethed.

Priss hadn't been joking when she said she'd teach Helga to drive. However, the lessons she taught were less productive than she'd hoped. Helga couldn't park or reverse without causing some form of destruction. She had gotten the hang of cruising and turning, and as far as Priss was concerned, the girl was a prodigy.

 

At the moment, Helga was cruising down a deserted country road listening to one of Priss's mix-tapes.'Jeez, you'd think she'd at least use CDs let alone MP3s'.Her older companion was in the backseat, asleep in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. Helga adjusted the mirror to glance at the woman before readjusting and taking a sip of her coffee. The taste was bitter and it had lost its heat long ago.

It was dawn, and the sun was slowly making its way into view.The Catherine Wheel was the next artist on "Prissy Mix 2: Revenge of Rock n' Roll". Helga mentally mocked the title. The car was filled the sound of a single guitar as the song Black Metallic began to play.

The sound was painful; it awoke a feeling of loneliness Helga hadn't felt before. It became clear that this was the bittersweet sensation of being a runaway. The emotion filled the girl's core as she reflected on how she truly had nothing but the clothes on her back (as well as her bag) and a dwindling wad of cash that was meant to help her get half way across the country.

What had happened to her? How could Helga G Pataki, daughter of Bob Pataki, the Beeper King, become comfortable with the vagrant lifestyle? There was no doubt that the woman snoring behind her was the reason for her smooth transition. Priss had showcased the charm of drifting; the late nights and sometime all-nighters, sleeping in gross motels, and once camping out on the side of a road. If Helga had been told a year before that she would one day be on the road for hours at a time, listening to Pearl Jam or Alice in Chains, and showering about every two days, she would probably have beaten the snot out of the poor messenger.

Helga smiled at how much she had changed. Material gain was top priority growing up, but now she barely had anything but ratty clothing and the occasional classic novel, not to mention her notebook. It had become sort of a journal. Helga documented in detail her adventures, from meeting Priss, to dying her hair, to the struggles of adapting to a primitive lifestyle. Her new life still inspired poetry. It wasn't as passionate as her previous volumes, but it was powerful nonetheless.

The sound of Priss shifting in the backseat brought Helga's attention away from her thoughts. She regarded the woman in the reflection of the readjusted mirror. The woman groggily gazed back.

"How long have I been out?" Priss said, yawning on the last word.

"Hours, and it's about damn time you woke up. You left me to do all the driving while you got your beauty sleep. OH! And I couldn't read your directions due to your crap hand writing".

"No sweat off my back, we'll go wherever the road gods take us."

'Oh great, I didn't realize she was a hippie.'

"Fabulous, while you're busy praying to your 'road gods', I'll be getting us even more lost," Helga said. Her voice filled with irritation as she tried to navigate with her map and drive simultaneously. However, Priss took no notice.

"I'm feeling a bit peckish," the older woman said absentmindedly. "What do you say? Pit stop?" Priss asked eagerly.

"Oh sure, we could stop at a restaurant or perhaps a cafe, despite the fact that we're in the middle of nowhere!"

"Cool your jets, Tiger. I have a knack for stumbling into the right places. Pull over, let me drive."

The car pulled to the side of the road clumsily. Priss got out of her seats and walked counter-clock wise to the opposite side of the car, while Helga climbed into the passenger seat. The Coupe promptly sputtered to life and made its way recklessly down the road.

After an hour of hellish driving, the two women entered Hardin, Montana. Helga grumbled as she studied her map. They had successfully traveled more than half way across the state. Regardless, she complained about the short distance they had covered. Priss, on the other hand, had found a cafe that met her standards.

Entering, they found themselves a table and quickly ordered. The bleach-blonde stacked sugar packets while a frustrated Helga immersed herself in plotting their next destination. A calm silence settled over the two as they both sunk into their thoughts.

The coffee was ready a while later, and the two women eagerly sipped their cups full of molten caffeine. Helga went back to figuring out how much distance she could cover before Priss started annoying the crap out of her, as well as how long their driving shifts would be. Priss simply observed the locals going about their routines.

A bell above the door rung as more customers entered. Helga vaguely noticed the two young truckers that had walked in, Priss, however, had found a subject worth her attention. Making eye contact with the taller of the two, their eyes danced with one another, both parties obviously interested. All of this was lost on Helga, as she was now figuring out how much money they would have to spend. Throughout the planning, Helga wished she had had her best friend with her to help.

Once Helga had decided on their next stop, she straightened up to brief her companion. "So, we'll stay here for the night and then we can head out to..." she paused to find the name of their destination, "Rapid city, Wyoming."

Getting no response, Helga looked up at Priss, who was busy eyeing the trucker. "Priss," she said loudly. The blonde jumped at her name and smiled bashfully at Helga.

"Ah, yes?"

"Rapid city."

"What about it?"

"That's where we're headed next."

"Right, sure. You're in charge."

Helga glared at the older woman as she returned her attention to the other customers in the cafe. "I'm in charge," she muttered to herself. She glazed over the potential routes they could take, making an effort to construct a plan. All the tiny lines, twisting and splitting, were giving the poor girl a headache.

She stood up suddenly, almost knocking the table and Priss's coffee over in the process. Helga made her way to the ordering counter, keen on getting a second cup to refuel her motivation. She fixated her gaze on the menu displayed on the wall behind the counter.

The young girl's eyes followed the elaborate menu that was written out in chalk against a black-board wall. Helga eyed the barista taking the orders at the counter, as well as the other baristas hurriedly making the ordered drinks. Her thoughts were rudely brought back to the line as the customer behind her collided with her slouching form. Immediately she spun around to face a young man not much older than herself with a dumbfounded expression on his bespectacled face. He ran one hand through his dirty blonde hair apologetically.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention, a-and I heard the line move-and I didn't realize... I um... sorry" He finished quietly.

Helga glared at the boy through her long bangs before lazily turning around and approaching the counter. Finishing her order, she slowly trudged back towards her table, noting smugly that the boy was still red with embarrassment.'Moron'.

Helga sat down with a groan. The two girls had been travelling aimlessly for too long. Priss claimed to be on her way to Las Vegas when the two met, but it became clear that she was much more interested in monitoring Helga's escapade. The younger woman was anxious to set a destination for herself. The idea was to start a new life somewhere, but where?

"You know," Priss's voice stole Helga's attention. "That guy that bumped into you is checking you out." She gestured to the boy who was indeed glancing shyly at Helga.

"I highly doubt that." Helga replied, making no attempt to confirm Priss's claim.

"You should go say hi, or something."

"The idiot collided with me. Why would I want to speak to someone so careless?" The younger woman was less than uninterested in chatting with a four-eyed dork.

"Aw, come on! He's cute! You should loosen up, have a little fun."

"I'll pass."

"Your loss."

"I'm sure I'll get over it."

Priss shrugged her shoulders in mock defeat. "Hey, let's make a stop by a grocery store. Tonight we cook under the stars!"

"Really?"

"Well, more like in the motel parking lot."

"How nice..." The prospect of dining in the parking lot of a motel wasn't particularly appealing to Helga. ' I shouldn't be surprised. It was only a matter of time before we'd be forced to get by on little cash.'

"Any how, we'll need to go buy ingredients for our little cook out. Are you ready to go?" 

Helga nodded and started gathering up her maps. Leaving the cafe, Priss asked for directions to the nearest supermarket. Soon after, the two women found themselves downtown, and before long they had reached their goal.

The women got out of the car, entered the supermarket, then split up to search for anything tasty and cheap. They met at the check out counters where they made their purchases. Priss had chosen a package of frozen burgers, buns, a box of cookies, and a very large bottle of water. Helga picked up a gallon of Yahoo soda, a bag of chips, as well as a bag of baby carrots. The last item was an attempt to eat something relatively healthy. Along with the independence Helga gained, came an urge to take care of her health. But of course, she had to crawl before she could walk.

"Do you plan on eating all those burgers plain?" Helga asked as she and Priss took shopping and heading for the exit.

"First of all, I don't plan on eating all of them myself, and second, we'll stop by a McDonalds and steal their ketchup."

"Wow, Ketchup. How crappy."

"Oh shove it. Does the pessimism ever stop?"

"I have a never-ending supply."

"Well aren't you sweet." Priss's sarcastic remark, however, was lost on Helga, for she had stopped dead in her tracks.

"Helga?" Priss looked back at her young companion. Helga's eyes were fixed on a large bulletin board set up close to the automatic doors. From where the older woman was standing, she could see notices for events and public service announcement. But Helga wasn't looking at any of that. Her eyes were fixed on group of missing persons reports.

Helga went very pale. She couldn't move, she was staring into her own eyes. Her focus darted around the page, collecting fragments of information. The words "Missing" and "Helga Pataki" stood out in big bold letters. 'No. No, I don't want to go back.'

Priss carefully approached Helga. "Sweetie?" Her voice was soft and full of worry. The sound was enough to break the spell holding the young woman.

Now that she was in a clearer state of mind, Helga's body became consumed with fury. She swiftly walked past Priss, through the exit and to the parking lot. Priss jogged to catch up with her companion. A head of her, Helga had dropped her bag of shopping and was nearing a group of shopping carts on the side of the building perpendicular to the supermarket entrance.

With a shriek of frustration, Helga lifted a shopping cart with great force, and heaved it against the side of the building. It wasn't enough. She proceeded to kick the overturned shopping cart mercilessly, ignoring the pain that accompanied the contact between her foot and the metal cage.

Priss was not familiar with Helga's violent state, therefore, she didn't hesitate to restrain the young woman from doing further damage. Helga wriggled out of grasp and turned to retaliate. Priss tried to dodge the blow, but wasn't so successful, and Helga's fist awkwardly hit her cheek. It wasn't full contact, but it still did damage.

Almost immediately, Helga felt Priss's palm collide with the side of her face. Shocked, she stood still for half a second, taking in the events that just took place. The two women become aware of the crowd that had gathered a good distance from them.

"Let's go." Priss said urgently. Helga nodded in response.

The younger woman picked up her shopping and walked quickly to their car. Priss turn the shopping cart over, hoping that there wasn't too much damage done. It was enough that the authorities were aware of Helga's disappearance, any attention brought to her, would only get her sent back to Hillwood. Priss jogged to her Coupe where Helga was sitting in the passengers seat with her head in her hands.

The two women drove in silence back towards the cafe. They pulled into a motel across the street from where they had had coffee earlier that day. Priss checked in, and found a parking space near their room. She ushered Helga inside the room, and upon entering, the younger woman headed straight for the bed at the far side of the room. She curled into herself facing away from door.

Priss observed her young companion carefully, before concluding that she would be alright by herself. Seeing that Helga's eye were closed, the older woman pulled the curtains shut. She exited the room quietly, leaving Helga alone with her thoughts.

It was midday, so sleep didn't seem likely. Helga's insides felt knotted, and her heart rate increased with every passing thought. 'I'm so tired of this, why couldn't i just be left alone? It was never a problem before.' Her eyes weld up with tears, and silently she let them fall. After crying for what felt like an half an hour, Helga's eyes started to feel heavy. It wasn't long before the young woman drifted to sleep.

 

Back in Hillwood, a very concerned half Japanese girl was on the phone with Olga Pataki. She had called regularly since Helga's disappearance. Part of it was to stay updated, and part of it was the comfort that accompanied Phoebe's voice. There were people who cared, people who would do anything they could to ensure the safe return of her baby sister.

They had gained a little information on Helga's whereabouts. But more importantly, they now knew she was ok. It was a step closer getting Helga home.

"A picture?" Olga's voice came through the telephone held to Phoebe's ear.

"yes, a picture. I received an email with an attachment that contained a scan of a polaroid picture."

"Is she alright? What was the picture of?"

"In the picture, Helga is sitting in a booth in a restaurant."

"Does she look healthy? Is she getting thin? Oh! She doesn't look like one of those poor homeless children does she?"

"Rest assured, she looks like she is taking care of herself. Although I must admit, from the appearance of her hair, it looks as if she isn't showering often."

"Oh, my poor Baby Sister! How terrible!"

"There is no need to panic, I'm sure that she is doing well."

"But she's out there on her own! Who knows what horrible things could happen to her!"

"Actually, I don't believe she is travelling alone. The table is visible in a portion of the picture and the cutlery is set for two. Additionally, the picture is taken across from her, if it were a waitress, surely they wouldn't have taken the seat across from her to take the picture, it would look more like a souvenir if a waitress had taken it."

"Thank goodness! Helga is not alone!"

"Yes, but that brings up the issue of who she is travelling with, and if they can be trusted. I trust Helga's judgement, but given the circumstances it is still unsettling."

"Oh dear, is there anything good that we can be sure of?"

"We know she is alive, which means that we still have reason to search for her."

"Phoebe, I've made a decision. I will be moving back home in the coming week."

"Will this not interfere with you life in Alaska?"

"I need to stay close to the investigation. Mummy and Daddy need me as well. And this way, I can help with the search while you're out looking for her."

"Very well, I look forward to seeing you soon."

There was a knock at Phoebe's door as she hung up the phone. "Come in."

Gerald stepping into the room and embraced his girlfriend in a tight hug. She smiled up at him once they'd let go, but it wasn't enough to put him at ease. He watched her as she tidied up her room, collecting missing posters off the floor and shutting down her laptop.

"Any news?" He asked

"Yes, we know that she's alive and travelling with someone."

"And you still won't budge about staying and letting the authorities find her?"

"Gerald," she spoke softly, "The police have many missing children to search for. There has to be someone tracking her down. And I couldn't stay here and wait for her to turn up. I have to go out there."

The young man sighed. "I still can't understand why Arnold would insist on going with you. I'm not complaining, I mean there's no way I'd want you to go alone, and I know that Arnold would make sure you were safe, but when did Helga G. Pataki, the terror of the fourth grade, become so important to him? I doubt he was that important to her."

Phoebe hid her smile, and said quietly "You'd be surprised at how important he is to her."

"What?" Gerald almost made out what she had said, but wasn't sure if he heard right.

"It's nothing, I'll go make us a pot of Ocha. Would you like anything to eat?"

"I'm alright Pheebs, thanks."

Gerald sat down on Phoebe's futon bed, as she left the room. No matter how many time's he'd been in her room, he still couldn't help but take it in. This was Phoebe's environment. Her space.

Scanning the room, his eyes found a foreign object. Make that a stack of foreign objects. Gerald recognized them from the day Arnold, Phoebe and himself found Helga's wreck of a room. They were the books that Phoebe had grabbed when she left. During the drive back, she had held them as if they were fragile. As if they were treasures.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he walked to the corner of the room they were stacked in. They looked inconspicuous, but Gerald knew Phoebe's room well enough to know they didn't belong there.

He picked up the top book and examined it lazily. It was a notebook. The cover was plain with no sign that indicated it was a diary or anything like that. He flipped through the first few pages. 'Poems. Helga wrote poetry?' Gerald wasn't sure if these books were private. Surely Helga wouldn't fret too much if someone had come across her poetry. Would she? He decided to put it down to be safe, but just as he was about to do so, a word caught his eye. Well, more a name caught his eye.

"What?" He said in astonishment.

Gerald looked more closely at the pages in the book. He started to see it every where, almost every page, every poem. 'Arnold', 'Arnold', 'Arnold', his name written over and over again.

"This can't be right."

He glance at the rest of the books. He went through them one by one skimming the pages, finding his best friend's name in each of them.

"What the hell..."

His attention snapped back to the room at the sound of Phoebe's voice behind him. "Oh Gerald, what have you done?"


	5. She Spills

"Phoebe, what is this?" Gerald's voice was quiet.

"This is an invasion of Helga's privacy. How dare you snoop through her belongings? I expected more from you." Although Phoebe didn't completely show it, Gerald could tell that she was borderline furious.

"You're right," he answered solemnly, "I was wrong to look into those books, and I am sorry, but right now, I'm very confused."

Phoebe said nothing.

"She loved him?" It was more a statement than a question. The idea was absurd. "There's gotta be a mistake. This is a prank right?" He looked to his girlfriend hoping to get some sort of confirmation, but her expression stayed serious.

"I am so disappointed in you." At this, she turned away from him. Gerald's eyes searched her back for answers.

 

He felt his stomach drop as it dawned on him that this was the first time he had made his girlfriend so upset. She was right; he had invaded Helga's privacy. And Helga meant the world to Phoebe.

Phoebe wearily sat down on her futon and Gerald cautiously joined her. He watched her with guilt-ridden eyes, guilt that he couldn't come to terms with.

Gerald and Helga hadn't had bonded over the coupling of Phoebe and himself. He understood that Helga would stop at nothing to protect her best friend, and after months of doubt, Helga accepted that Gerald wouldn't hurt her. It was from those months that he and Helga G. Pataki formed a truce. To a certain extent of course; they still argued and taunted each other.

"Phoebe?" His voice was quiet; he looked as ashamed as a scolded child. Her saddened eyes met his. "Please. Help me make sense of this."

Phoebe sighed. "It cannot be more blunt; Arnold meant much more to Helga than she let on."

It took a moment to absorb the obvious. "Well if he was so important to her, why did she pull that stunt on him? I mean I know we all act immature sometimes, but that was beyond petty."

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you. I was just as shocked that day. But what I can say is that I'm sure for whatever reason it was, she must have been so hurt to take such action."

 

It was early evening when Helga awoke. She blinked momentarily, allowing her body to respond before she moved. The room was dark and there was no sign of Priss.

Unsure of what to do, she got up and approached the door hoping that her companion would be right outside. Unfortunately, when she stepped out into the cool air of the evening she was greeted with a stranger sitting on the hood of Priss's Coupe.

"Hi," He said in husky voice, "you mus' be Priss's friend, I'm-"

"Fabio's cousin?" Helga sneered after taking in his defined muscular build, tanned skin, chiseled facial features and grown out brown hair.

He let out a shout of laughter. "No ma'am. M'names Mack." A large hand stuck out to shake Helga's. She looked at the hand then back to his face, and scoffed. "It's a pleasure to meet you miss…"

"Hel- " She started before she could stop herself. She paused awkwardly before speaking carefully. "Ena… My name is Helena."

"It's a pleasure to meet you miss Helena." Mack said, and he casually withdrew his hand.

An awkward moment passed before either spoke. "Where is she?" said Helga, turning her gaze to search the single story motel building that encompassed the parking lot.

"Right here!" Priss's voice came from the rear of the car. She came around the side holding a beat up camping stove. "I see you've met Mack."

"Tha's right, Helena here jus' joined me," said Mack. Priss paused a moment before she caught on.

"Well Helena, it's good to see you up and about." She smirked before continuing. "Mack here has kindly offered to help us with tonight's meal."

"I thought you knew how to work that thing," said Helga, cocking her head skeptically.

"I do," said Priss quietly, joining Helga by the motel door, before turning to watch Mack fiddle with the stove. Her eyes followed his form as he crouched down. "I couldn't think of a better way to keep him talking to me."

"Why did you even bother?" Helga asked flatly.

"Look at him! He's smokin'. He was at the café this morning and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him."

"Does this mean we have to share the burgers with Mr. Tall-dense-and-'hunky'?"

"He got us more than ketchup." Priss coaxed.

Helga's hard expression faltered at this. Extra food was hard to deny given her new diet. So she slouched down by their motel room door and entertained herself by watching Mack prove his manliness. Priss, on the other hand, was busy staring at his rear end.

That evening the three of them enjoyed a meal in the girls' motel room. Priss and Mack exchanged stories and Helga sat idly, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment.

Once they had finished eating, Mack extended his stay by offering to bring over a six-pack of beer. Priss accepted the offer enthusiastically, but Helga felt nothing less than irritation. Mack returned with half a bottle of gin as an added bonus.

Several empty beer bottles later, the conversation began to slow. Priss and Mack grew increasingly intoxicated while Helga observed them. They began to flirt openly. Helga kept them at bay with her sluggish groans of disgust. Unfortunately, even that tactic began to lose its effect. Helga had no choice but to take action or risk witnessing the two hook up.

"Hey Mack, I think it's time Priss and I hit the hay. We've got an early morning tomorrow, full of driving, wouldn't want either of us to be hung over."

"Come on Kiddo, we're having such a nice time. Don't you miss having a man in your life? I know I do."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Helga shot back

"Commere' Silly," Priss stumbled over to Helga and pulled her into an awkward hug. "Why don't we get a man's perspective on your dilemma back home?"

Helga shrugged the woman's arm off her shoulders, and then replied fiercely. "No. It's none of his damn business."

Priss ignored her and turned to Mack, "So Ms. Grumpy over here has this guy back home."

"Priss, shut up."

"Shh," she brought her index finger up to her lips for emphasis. "And from what I can tell, she's head over heels for him."

"I'm serious, shut yer trap." Helga warned.

"Oh, lighten up." Priss shot back, then narrowed her eyes. "You still haven't told me about that prank you pulled on him."

At this point, Mack piped up. "Pickin' on your crush? That's classic."

"Nobody asked you, Bucko!" Helga growled.

Unfazed, he leaned towards her. "So what did you do?" Mack raised an eyebrow coyly. Helga frowned at his expression.

"Please?" Priss drunkenly pulled puppy dog eyes.

Helga weighed the odds of Priss remembering this conversation the next morning. After a moment of contemplation, Helga gave in.

"Okay, so there was this girl he liked, and she liked him back, and I may have filled his locker with cutouts of porn with the chick's face taped to the bodies."

Priss and Mack stared at her blankly for a split second before the room was filled with laughter.

"Are you serious? Holy cow, you were bent on breaking those two up." Priss spoke between giggles.

"There's more," Helga waited a moment for Priss to clam down before continuing. "I filled a bucket with a mixture that looks like sperm, and rigged it so it'd soak him when he opened his locker." This was met with more laughter. Helga couldn't keep herself from cracking a slight smile; the idea was radical, even for her.

"Wowee, I can't say I've ever heard of anythin' that creative." It was almost as if Mack was praising her.

"I agree, what was your motivation anyway?" Priss encouraged. "Did you like, really have it in for this girl?"

Helga thought a moment. "I hadn't had a problem with her before. I mean, she was new, all the boys immediately liked her, she was cute, told funny stories, and all that stupid crap.

"I was in no hurry to get to know the girl, hell I'd have preferred it if we didn't make contact at all. She could stay the center of attention, and I would avoid the crowd that she was surrounded by. But then he started talking to her.

"I mean, he had spoken to her before, he'd even showed her around the school when she first transferred. But she started dropping hints, and before long he was just as hooked as the rest of the male student body."

"I see, so this girl moves in on your turf and you take it upon yourself to make sure she backs off. Why didn't you just prank her instead?"

"Well first off, it would've made it very clear that I wanted them apart, and second… it wasn't her liking him that bugged me so much as something he said."

Priss and Mack sat cross-legged before her, waiting for her to continue. Helga took a deep breath, but Priss was too impatient. "And?"

"And what?" Helga narrowed her eyes.

"What did he say?" Mack probed.

Helga collected herself a moment, before reluctantly described what she had encountered shortly before her departure.

She had broken in the boys' locker room on urgent business; Stinky had borrowed her History textbook and had forgotten it in his locker. He'd have gotten it himself if he had not been rushing to get to a 'doctor's appointment'. So he gave Helga his locker combination after being threatened to have it beat out of him, and gaped as she stormed off.

Helga entered the boys' locker room stealthily. It took her several minutes to find the locker and retrieve her textbook from the mess of smelly gym clothes and old assignments. Helga had been on her way out when the door opened, and in walked Arnold, followed by Gerald. Instinctively, she ran for cover.

She scolded herself for being so careless, she had no choice but to wait for them to leave. Hopefully soon. So, Helga crouched behind a row of lockers, and found she had stumbled upon an interesting conversation.

"…And I know Sid's incredibly jealous. You should've seen him when you two were talking yesterday." Gerald's voice rang through the room.

"Really?" Arnold asked, genuinely surprised.

"Are you kidding? Did you not see the way she was talking to you? The girl was playing with her hair like crazy, had her hip popped and everything."

"Isn't that how she always stands?"

There was a silence that could only mean Gerald was giving him a knowing look.

"What the big deal? I mean I like her, but why are you pushing this?"

"Com'on man, don't you think it'd be nice to go on double dates? Me and Phoebe, you and Tiffany. It'd be fun to do couples stuff together."

"Don't we already do that? You, Phoebe, Helga and I, don't the four of us hang out?"

"Yeah, we hang out, but I'm talkin' dinners, movies, bowling, the whole deal."

"Like I said, don't we already do that?"

"I don't think you're grasping the 'couples' aspect of the scenario. You and Helga are not dating."

"Is it really that important to you that I date someone, so we can go on double dates?"

"It's not just that." Gerald defended. "Wouldn't you rather spend your time with a sweet girl like Tiffany, as well as your best friend and his girlfriend?"

"I don't know, I mean I was planning on asking her out anyway, but-"

"And," he continued, "wouldn't you rather spend more time with Tiffany than Helga?"

"Hey, Helga's my friend. I enjoy her company."

Gerald sighed. "Ok, lets look at the two of them. Helga is, rude, obnoxious, loud, sarcastic, competitive, and not to mention that all she ever does …

"Hey, that's not fair," Arnold started, his voice now nearing the locker room entrance.

"Let me finish." Gerald paused before continuing. "And Tiffany, she's hot, funny, friendly, popular, and in to you. And don't forget that you've also got the hots for her."

At this point, they're voices were by the door.

"Arnold, you have to admit that the two of them are completely different."

"I guess you're right about one thing. Tiffany is nothing like Helga." Arnold said as he followed Gerald into the school hallway.

She was stunned. It wasn't just the way they had compared her to Tiffany. It also wasn't just that they had made it very clear that the kind of girl Arnold liked, was the kind of girl Helga was not. It was the tone of Arnold's voice. 'Tiffany is nothing like Helga'. It felt, directed at her. It was the kind of thing she had encountered in nightmares. Nightmares where she would confess her love to Arnold, but he would apologetically explain that he could never love her back. Because she was not the kind of girl he would date, forever placing her in the 'friend zone'. It felt so real. The pain it brought was excruciating.

Helga felt a rage bubble up within her stomach. 'They're right about me,' she thought, 'everything they said was right, but they left out one important detail; I'm vengeful.' And with that, she began plotting. So Arnold liked Tiffany, well she'd make sure the whole school would see just 'how much' he liked her.

"Holy crap." Priss said when Helga had finished. Her remark brought Helga back from her thoughts, forgetting that she had been telling them her past while she relived it.

"No kiddin'," was all Mack said before downing the remainder of his beer.

Helga slouched before them quietly staring at the ugly carpet. Mack made the first move, opening another bottle of beer and placing it before her. The corner of Helga's mouth twitched upwards slightly. She sat still a moment before she accepted his offering, tasting the alcohol as she took her first chug.

The rest of the evening was more engaging. The more Helga drank, the more she took part in their banter, laughing openly, poking fun at either of them or both at once. She was enjoying the giddiness that accompanied inebriation; Priss used this to her advantage. While Helga was caught in a frenzy of giggles, Priss tackled her to the floor where they wrestled playfully before Helga had the older woman pinned in a hold she picked up from WrestleMania.

And then out of nowhere, Helga was compelled to leave the motel room. The cool air of the evening was calling her, inviting her to take in the stars with her muddled senses. She declared that she would take a walk, and would be back soon.

Her vision was fuzzy, yet not fuzzy. It was as if her vision was lagging, like a video that is a few paces behind its audio. She stumbled down the road, and found a field that led away from the streetlamps. Trying her best not to trip, she ventured away from the light, and dropped to the ground, directing her attention to the stars.

The sky was breath taking. It was near impossible to make out any stars in the city; the only chance of seeing a star was on the outskirts, or atop one of the higher skyscrapers, away from the lights below. Smiling to herself, Helga recalled a night during her childhood when she heard Gerald's voice on the radio; begging the residents of Hillwood to turn off their lights. That night the city witnessed a once in a lifetime spectacle. What was it called again, Halley's comet? Sally's comet? Never mind the name, she found out later that the night of magic had been brought to her by her beloved.

'Arnold'. Helga's eyes stayed on the stars. 'What are the chances that you're staring at the stars too?' She sighed, 'No. Not while the rest of the city is lit. What are you doing now?' She tensed as a thought entered her brain. Was he talking to Tiffany? Were they texting, or on the phone? What if she was over at the boarding house, would she be alone with him in his room? Under the same stars?

Helga got to her feet. No way would she allow herself to be under the same sky as them. For all she new, they could be in his bed, together, wrapped in the other's loving embrace, taking in the sky… Now she was running, but given her drunken state, it was more of a jog. She reached the side of the motel building and used one hand to steady herself against it as she caught her breath. 'Is she there with you, Arnold?'

Her eyes fell on a phone booth fifteen feet ahead of her. She approached it without hesitation. She lifted the receiver, deposited the fee, and dialed his number. 'Just this once' she promised herself. 'Just this once, and then never again." Helga's ear was pushed against the phone; her head throbbed with every ring until… "Hello?"

It was better than any drug in existence. The ecstasy that his voice brought was magnificent and terrible at the same time. It was dangerous, the effect he had on her, and given her intoxication, it was all she could do not to fall to her knees, hug the phone to her heart, and declare her undying love for him, again.

"…Hello?" Helga became acutely aware of the tone of apprehension in his voice.

When he spoke again, he sounded fearful, hopeful. "…Helga?" It was not an accusation, but a plead. It truly sounded like he wanted the person on the other end to be her. But she did not consider this. As soon as her name rung through her ears she immediately ended the call.

Helga took a step back from the payphone, moving as if it had burned her. She crouched down and hugged her knees, desperate to feel solid. She felt that if she didn't cling to herself, she would break and her parts would float in different directions, scattering along the empty highway.

It took her a while to sort what she was feeling. Part of it was despair at how far she was from home, yet a single phone call could make it feel too close for comfort. She felt the familiar pain of love; love brought back by the way his voice cradled her name. But most of all was fear; fear that she might not escape Hillwood after all. That it might sneak up on her when she least suspected it.

Returning to the motel room she was met with silence. There was no trace of Priss or her new friend. The room was lit with a single lamp, welcoming Helga to a place of solitude.

Curling up on the bed Helga was grateful for the silence, but at the same time she had almost hoped that Priss would be there to comfort her. Of course, Helga preferred the time alone, and was surprised when the fleeting thought of Priss's comforting words entered her head. No, she would keep this to herself.

All too soon she was startled by the abrupt sound of the door opening. Helga looked up to see Priss stumbling in and closing the door behind her. Her clothing was disheveled, and her short hair was severely ruffled.

"Welcome back."

Priss jumped at the sound of Helga's voice.

"Oh, hi Helga," Priss's voice was mildly flustered, "I was uhm… Mack invited me to his… to show me his… uh… engine. It's a beauty."

"I didn't ask."

"Right." There was an awkward moment of silence between them. "Well good night then." With that, Priss turned of the light.

 

Arnold was looking through ads for second hand car dealerships when the phone rang. He waited a moment to see if anyone would get it. After two rings, he hurried down the stairs to catch it before it went to the answering machine.

"Hello?" His greeting was met with silence. There was slight static in the silence; it didn't sit well with him

"…Hello?" His chest ached as he listened closely for an answer, but it didn't come. He couldn't help but wish. Could it be? What were the chances that she'd call him? No, Phoebe would be more likely to receive a phone call from her. The thought should have discouraged any hope, but he couldn't keep it down.

"…Helga?" His heart just about stopped when the line went dead. The phone was still pressed against his ear, it rung with a tone indicating that the call had ended. A hundred possible explanations crossed his mind, but he kept returning to the unlikely; Helga had called him.

Arnold was so wrapped in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps that climbed the staircase.

"Hey, Arnold?" He was startled by the voice of his best friend. He looked over at Gerald and hesitantly hung up the phone. "You alright, man?" Gerald asked after seeing the expression on Arnold's face.

"I think… I think it was her." Arnold said vaguely, his mind was going over the phone call, searching for any indication that it had come from Helga.

"What? What are you talkin' about, man?"

"The… the phone call." Arnold's eyes finally focused on Gerald, then narrowed into a look of determination.

Arnold headed straight for the front door, Gerald following close behind. The two boys ran for the police station. Upon arriving, Gerald spoke to an officer while Arnold caught his breath, and tried to form exactly what it was he was going to say.

The Detective in charge of Helga's investigation listened patiently to Arnold as he recounted the phone call he'd received almost twenty minutes before. Arnold pleaded that the police find a way to trace the call, but when he finished he was asked how he could be sure it was Helga. To this, he had no answer. Upon seeing the boy so distressed, the Detective promised he would see what he could do.

The boys walked back to the boarding house in silence. Arnold was brooding over the possibility of finding Helga's whereabouts. Gerald had his eyes on his best friend, pondering Arnold and Helga's relationship. What lay beneath the surface of their friendship? Would Arnold have lost so much sleep over anyone else's disappearance? Or did Helga mean more to him than he realized. Had he fallen for her? What other explanation could there be?

Gerald had only just discovered Helga's greatest secret, and upon seeing his best friend so worked up over her, he couldn't help but pity Arnold for not knowing that she loved him dearly. It was peculiar how his perspective of the world around him could shift so dramatically. If Helga loved Arnold, who was to say that Rhonda didn't secretly love Curly? Hell, maybe Harold was a genius, or maybe Stinky was actually a millionaire. Anything could be possible.

Arnold and Gerald parted upon reaching the Sunset Arms. Both boys held serious expressions for different reasons.

Several days later, Arnold received a phone call from the police informing him that the call was traced to Hardin, Montana. He immediately called Phoebe, and started packing.


End file.
